


Does Remembering Make It Better (A story in 3 Parts)

by XxBloodYRevengexX (Vicktor_Horror)



Series: Through the Centuries (First Anti-Frerard Fanfiction Ever!) [13]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25258123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicktor_Horror/pseuds/XxBloodYRevengexX
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Through the Centuries (First Anti-Frerard Fanfiction Ever!) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/315416





	1. ONE

Gerard POV

I wiped the sweat from my brow and put down my axe. The pile of firewood was already sky-high and my smile was from ear to ear.

“Good job, son.”

My father patted me on the shoulder and I beamed at him. Then, we both bent down to pick up an armful of wood and began the work of carrying it down to the cottage.

Our home was a modest one. Father had built it himself years ago. They revealed to me that at first, it was supposed to be only a vacation spot, but then father had chosen to live the life of a country man and had moved us over here. Not that I complain. I love the country. I barely remember our old home anyways. Our house was made of wood and it had a nice chimney and a living room with a kitchen. It also had two bedrooms: one for mother and father, and one for me and my brother, Mikey.

Mother was waiting at the door when we reached it. She pulled open the doors to our wood storage and father and I stocked the wood inside. Autumn was coming soon, so we needed to stock up as much as we could.

A squeal.

I turned around quickly and plucked my little brother off the ground. The pipsqueak squealed again, making me laugh like a maniac.

“Let’s pick flowers!” Mikey exclaimed.

I nuzzled into his neck and kissed his cheek.

“I would love to, Mikey. But I have to help dad with the firewood. You know how that’s like. It'll be hours before we’re done.”

“Play with your brother.” Father said, a smile in his voice. “I’ll get Mr. Bryar to help me out with the rest. You’ve done more than enough for today.”

Father ruffled my hair and I laughed. Then, Mikey and I took off. We ran down the dirt road that led to our favorite field, my little brother ahead. He was giggling on about a flower he had found earlier and telling me about a secret stash of them. Finally, we stopped. There, in an area that is well shaded from the cold, There… we found beautiful flowers. Mikey plucked one and held it up to me.

“Don’t worry, Gee. I checked for poison.”

I took the white flower and patted my brother in the head. 5 years old and he was already so very smart. We then proceeded to go out to a beautiful clearing. The sky was a lovely shade of blue and there hardly were any clouds left over from the storm.

There had been a storm two days ago. That had been where father and I had gotten all the firewood from. All the trees in the north part of the forest had lost their leaves, limbs and some had even been uprooted. Even though our home was far from the storm, the winds still managed to knock the apples off my tree at home. Even now, we were enjoying lots and lots of apple pie.

Suddenly, there is a terrified yelp.

I look around for Mikey, My eyes land on him just in time to see him disappear down a bend in shrubbery. I rush to him to find that he has landed on top of a fern and is sniffling bitterly. His knee is bleeding.

“I… fell….” Mikey whimpers softly.

I pick Mikey up and swing him on my back. His little hands hold on to my shoulders. His warm tears hit the back of my neck.

“We’re going to go wash up at the river, okay Mikes?”

I feel Mikey nod into my hair and hear the slight ‘pop’ he makes as he sticks his thumb in his mouth, a habit he refuses to grow out of. When we reach the river, I place him down and cup some of the clean water with both my hands.

“It’ll sting a little, okay?”

Mikey screws his small eyes shut and I can’t help but smile. Then, he nods carefully. Without making much of a noise, I gently pour the water on the blood. My little brother hisses and sniffles. I pat his shoulder.

“You’re a brave little warrior.” I murmur.

The cut wasn’t just one. There were 2. They weren’t deep, but they were long. I checked them carefully for infection. After finding none, I rummaged through my pocket for anything I could give to Mikey. Finally, I found the tiny bird-shaped whistle that dad had given me for my birthday yesterday and let him have it. Nearly instantly, his face lit up and he yelped with joy.

I slung him on my back again and we were about to leave, when we heard something.

My first instinct was to shush Mikey and crouch down. The sound was coming from underneath some pieces of broken trees. I blinked. The storm hadn’t passed through here, but the river had pushed some of the wreckage downstream.

“Gee.” Mikey whispered. “Let’s go home….”

“I heard something.” I insist.

“Geeeee!” He whined. “There’s-”

Then, I see it. IT… is a boy. The slight noise is his rattled breathing. He’s freezing.

“We have to help him.” I gasp. I place Mikey down and we step closer to the wreckage. Another soft noise. A pained moan. I take a branch that is currently pinning him down and push it out of the way. Mikey begins to do the same. My little brother’s face is unreadable. Three branches later, the boy’s face is fully unveiled. Boy… young man… with a boyish face. His body is small and he is wearing tattered remains of rich clothing. A good guess would be that the ship he was in was in the middle of the storm and it got destroyed. Then, the river carried him downstream and onto the border. A wonder he survived at all. I touch his face and he whimpers slightly. Then, his eyes open. There is mud all over his body, except on his eyes. When he opens his eyes, it feels like the world stops.

Those eyes…. Where do I… know them from?

The boy looks at us with fright. Both of us. He attempts to sit up and falls back down again. He looks at Mikey and then… at… me….

Silence. His mouth opens and his eyes become filled with tears.

“G-Gerard?” He whispers.

Before I can react to it, he falls unconscious before I can catch him. I look over at Mikey. Mikey looks at me.

“We have to take him to the house.” I say softly.

Mikey frowns and shakes his head. He’s never disagreed with me before.

“Why not?” I urge. “HE needs our help.”

Silence.

“If we don’t take him back to the house, I’ll stay here until he wakes up.”

Mikey stood up and sighed. Then, he nodded.


	2. TWO

Gerard POV

I carry him on my back and Mikey follows us. Besides the boy, we had found a small, wooden trunk and a beautiful hand mirror. Mikey keeps bombarding me with questions; ‘Do you think he’s a lost prince like in the stories?’ ‘Do you think the mirror is magic?’ ‘Maybe they’ll be gold in the bo. If there is, do you think he’ll reward us for saving his life with it?’

But the one question he hasn’t asked; the one that makes me the most curious: ‘How did he know your name?’

I don’t answer any of his questions on the way home. I can’t speak at all, actually. I can smell our mother cooking the chicken for dinner. The wood box is half full and father is nowhere to be seen. They mustn't be back yet. I call for mother and she steps out, smiling. Her eyes lower to Mikey’s knee and she looks worried. Then, her eyes go to the boy on my back and her whole face drains of color completely.

“The storm.” I say.

She nods and ushers us inside. We strip the boy of his wet clothes and mother tends to his small wounds. Then, we dress him in some of my clothes; cotton pants and shirt. The trousers fit fine, but the jumper is a tad too big on him. We then place him on my bed and cover him with the heavy quilts. Even in his sleep, he’s shivering very badly. After a few moments of being under the blanket, I see his lips stop twitching and instead curl into a soft smile. Mother touches his forehead and he sighs gently.

“He has a fever. Gerard, dear. Please fetch a wet rag.”

I run over to the kitchen and get the rag mother uses when ur boys get sick. I wet it and then squeeze out the excess water.Then, I take it back.

He’s awake.

I hide my the door frame and watch him squeeze mother’s arm.

“Where is Gerard? I need to see him… Please! I’ve been searching for so long!”

He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a necklace with a small, silver key.

“My box.” He tells my mother. “Did you grab it? My b-box!”

I step into the room and hand the rag to mother. She forces the boy to lie down and places it on his forehead.

“Gerard!” the boy tries to sit up again. Mother holds him down. “Gerard. Get my box. You have it. I know you do!”

I blink and step back. “H-How do you know me?”

Mother frowns slightly and then smiles. “He has a fever honey, He’s delirious.”

I start to leave the room, but then he sits up again.

“Your name is Gerard Way. Your brother calls you Gee-Bear.”

I pause. “Anyone could know that.”

“You’re 17 years old and you live here with your parents. You love art, but your parents think you’ll do better at something else. You want to make comic books and music that other people will love.”

“What else?” I ask softly.

“It’s different every time.”

Every time? I blink and a shiver runs down my spine. Maybe… the box will answer all of this. I go up to the boy and hold out my hand.

“Give me the key and I’ll get you your box.”

He immediately unclasps his necklace. Looking closer, I can see there’s a design on it. A G… inside a heart. I step out of the room to see Mikey smiling wide. Too wide.

“Wanna go play?” he giggles. Mother patched up his knee already.

“The box.” I tell him.

He frowns. “What box, Gee?”

“The one we found next to the kid. Where did you put the box, Mikey?”

I watch him carefully. He sticks his thumb in his mouth and moves his shoulders up and down.

“You have to remember!” I wail.

“DON’T YELL AT ME!” He screams back.

I pause. Mikey has never raised his voice at me. Never ever.

“EVERYTHING WAS GOING PERFECT!” He shouted again, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. His face acquired a look that made him look older. He lowers his voice. “Everything was perfect, Gee. We were happy. Every time Frank shows up, I lose you!”

“Every… time….”

Every time. Every time. Every time. Every time. Every… time…. Time. TIME.

“Where’s the box, Mikey.”

“Gerard, Please…” I could see tears brimming in his eyes. “I don’t wanna lose you-”

“What’s going to happen?!”

“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!”

Silence. Mikey fell on his knees, sobbing in a way that made my heart ache.

“YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’LL DO WITHOUT YOU!”

“What does that have to do with the box? Mikey, please. Tell me… please….”

Silence. Sobbing. I’m about to regret everything when he speaks up.

“It’s underneath father’s chair.” His voice is empty. I ignore it and go over to the living room. Under father’s chair, I find the beautifully engraved box. Now I see it. The designs… they’re MY designs.

I’m about to turn the lock when mother speaks.

“Gerard, honey?”

I turn the key and the lock makes a soft sound. Silence. I can feel three pairs of eyes on my back. I know father is home.

So I open the box.

The first thing I see is a picture. A man…. His smile is very familiar…. Me. But I’m older. My eyes are lovingly fixed on the person holding the camera. Next picture. Me again. This time, I’m holding another man. I’m slipping a ring into his finger. There are tears running down my face. The next picture is older. Black and white. Me and the man again. I’m holding him close and he’s kissing my cheek. My eyes are shut and I look like I’m in bliss. More pictures. In each one, we’re together or separate. In every one, it’s clear the other one is taking it. When it’s the other man, his eyes pierce into the camera; a feeling so deep I can’t describe. A small painting. It’s a flower field and I recognize the strokes. They’re my own personal style. In the back; To Frank. The love of this life and many more to come.

Then, at the bottom of the box, a golden ring.

In all of the pictures we’re together. In all of the pictures, we are terribly in love. Me and that man. Me and… and the boy currently on my bed. Frank. Frank.

“Gerard?” It’s the boy talking now. It’s Frank talking.


	3. THREE

Gerard POV

“Who are you?” I whisper.

“I’m Frank.” He says, walking closer to me. He’s shaking inside the blanket that trails behind his frail body like a cape. “I’m 22 years old and I’m in love with you, Gerard.”

I don’t say anything. I’m too shocked to speak. I don’t know him. At all. But these pictures… they say something else. They speak of a life I… don’t remember. Finally, I find my voice. I swallow.

“And what makes you think I’ll love you back this time?”

Absolute silence. Not even breathing.

“I d-don’t know…” Frank’s voice is small and frightened. “I guess I t-thought t-that….”

“That you would just show me the pictures and I would love you?”

Silence. The air is tense. Frank moves closer to me. I take a step back with the box and he stops moving.

“T-That I would show you the p-pictures and you would r-remember m-me….”

“Why don’t I?”

My eyes moved away from Frank to Father. His expression was one of anger and betrayal. when my eyes met his’, he smiled a little. Hopeful.

“He isn’t interested in you taking his life, Franklin. It’s over.”

I’d never heard my father be so cold towards anybody.

“What’s this about my life.” I ask softly. “I want to know. Everybody knows but me.”

Frank steps back. Father steps forward.

“When you were born….” He said. “Frank’s parents brought him to our house. We lived across the street from them back then. He saw you… and he told us that he loved you. Of course, kids aren’t usually to be taken too seriously, but Frank was insistent. Even after we moved away from Jersey, Frank’s father and I kept contact. About 10 years ago, Frank dug out an old box full of pictures. I took a trip to go see them and… it was you and him, Gerard. It was you two. Together. He was right after all. That was around the time when Mikey started talking. His first full sentence was ‘don’t trust Frank.’ Gerard, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I didn’t know what to do!”

I blinked and took a seat in the couch.

“What happened then?” I asked softly.

“Well…” Father continued. “We pressed Frank until he told us…. why you two couldn’t be together. And then we hid you away so he would never find you. To keep you safe.”

I swallowed slowly and looked down at the pictures. So happy…. Then why….?

“Why?” I asked. Mikey was the one to answer.

“When you find each other and get together…. one of you dies shortly after… usually, the other one follows.”

I gape at my little brother.

“How do YOU know, Mikey?”

“I remember.” He answered slowly. “Just like Frank, I remember every moment of my last five lives. I remember losing you… over and over again. Gerard, I can’t do it anymore….” Mikey looked down at the box and laughed dryly. “Too bad you don’t have any pictures of all the pain he caused you….”

Silence. Everyone was looking at me. Father spoke then.

“Gerard. It’s your choice, son.”

Mikey tried to protest but Father stopped him.

“Live and stay here….” I whispered. “Or go with Frank and… die.”

“Yes.”

I looked over at Frank and he winced slightly. His eyes searched mine for a moment. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

“Gerard, I don’t want to stand between you and your family. I’ll go.”

Frank came over to pick up all the pictures and put them back in the box. Then, he locked it and put the key around his neck. He nodded at me and at my family. He turned to leave and I grabbed his hand.

“Frank. Wait. I…. Kiss me.”

I saw pain in his eyes. He nodded and slowly leaned in to seal our lips together. It was an explosion of fireworks unlike any I had ever felt before for anyone else.

I felt love.

So I chose to leave with him.


End file.
